On the Air
by jmd811
Summary: CHAPTER 8 IS NOW UP! After WPOV recieves a chilling phone call about a kidnapping and leaving a daunting demand, it becomes a race against time to find the man involed. But not all things are what they appear...
1. Chapter 1

**Sometime after Season 4…**

* * *

"…And you are back with Jack. Jack Jericho and here with us is a very special surprise guest. He's my good friend and he played a very special role in my life and in the lives of many, the Oracle of Cleaves Mills himself, ladies and gentleman in his first radio guest appearance, Johnny Smith! Great to see ya, man." He reached over the desk andshook Johnny's hand enthusiastically. 

"Same here," Johnny replied shyly.

Johnny Smith sat in the chair across from Jack Jericho, exchanging smiles as the radio talk show host introduced him. John didn't want to be there, not really enjoying the public spotlight. When Jack first called him, John refused politely, but Jack wouldn't let up until he got him. He kept on trying to convince him that it would be great for him and finally John gave in and agreed.

* * *

Sonny Elliman was flipping the switch on the radio, trying to find anything to listen to. 

He was sitting in the back seat of a limousine with Greg Stillson and Malcolm Janus.

"Sonny, just pick something will ya? You're giving me a headache," Greg Stillson said with a bit of anger in his voice.

Janus said nothing, but his icy glare was focused on Sonny Elliman. Janus never liked Elliman and vice versa. Janus found Elliman annoying and sloppy, two qualities he despised most. If Janus wanted someone off of Stillson's staff, it was Elliman. But Stillson was fond of him so he decided to drop it. But he always kept a close eye on him. He didn't want some immature mishap to ruin Stillson's political career.

Sonny was about to reply when he just happened to tune in to Jericho's radio show when Johnny's name was introduced. All three of them looked at the radio and then exchanged glances.

"I think we should listen to this," Elliman said, taking his hand off the radio and sitting back with the others, all ready to listen to Johnny Smith with open and critical ears.

* * *

Sarah was in the kitchen, preparing lunch while J.J was sitting at the table doing his homework. Johnny had told her and Walt that there would be a surprise and to keep the radio on at 4. When Johnny's name was introduced on the air, Sarah looked up in surprise, putting down the knife and stopping for a moment to keep listening. J.J. looked up from his homework when Johnny's name popped up. 

"Mom, Johnny's on the radio!" J.J. explained with surprise.

Sarah, not knowing what to say, simply said, "Yeah." She didn't think that Johnny would ever be on a radio show, knowing how shy he was to public attention.

J.J. looked up at his mother, still looking up at the radio in surprise. "You okay, mom?" he asked concerned

Sarah snapped out of it and smiled at her son. "Yeah," she replied. "Just a little surprised that he's on the radio…"

At the police station, Walt was in his office the radio already on awaiting the "surprise". Roscoe was sitting in the desk across from him. Walt was giving him some paper work to handle. And Roscoe was not to happy about it.

"Come on, Walt. You got to have something better for me to do than paperwork. That's all I've been doing all week," Roscoe protested in a whining tone.

"Well what else do you suggest? Someone's got to do it," Walt replied, really not in the mood to fight with Roscoe.

"Get Garcia; he's been sitting around all day talking to his new girlfriend."

"Can't understand his handwriting. Can you just do it, already?

Roscoe gave up and stood up. Ready to leave the room. Then Johnny's name popped up on the radio. "Well what do you know? Just when I thought I've seen everything." He shook his head and walked out the door.

Walt was as surprised as Roscoe was. _Johnny's on the radio. That's a twist… _

_

* * *

_

Back at Jericho's radio station, Jack was ready to get started on the big interview. "Well anyway, soon we'll be giving you cats and dogs out there a chance to ask the great _Johnny Smith _some questions of your own. But first, a little music from Jeff Buckley."

Jack pressed a button which turned red and Jeff Buckley's _New Year's Prayer _began to play on the radio and in the station.

* * *

To be continued... 


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** -Thank you all for your reviews and I'm glad that you all enjoyed the first chapter. From this point on, I'll be updating on Saturdays. For info on my stories and upcoming projects, just check out my profile. Hope you enjoy this chapter! Don't you go anywhere!

* * *

Reverend Gene Purdy sat at the desk in his spacious office, preparing his next sermon under his thick reading glasses, his Bible opened up to Luke 21. Light filtered through the windows, bathing the reverend and his desk in sunlight. He had always loved this time of day. He began reading Luke 21, where Jesus was explaining the end times to his disciples.

* * *

Luke 21:10-11 - Then He said to them: "Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be great earthquakes, famines and pestilences in various places, and fearful events and great signs from heaven."

* * *

The door slowly opened and a young woman with glasses stepped in. "Reverend?" 

Purdy looked up from his work. "Yes, Susan?"

"John Smith is on the radio. WPOV."

He smiled. "Thank you, Susan."

She smiled and stepped out the door.

The reverend stood up from his desk and grabbed the remote sitting at the end of his desk. He pointed at the radio and pressed the power button. He switched over to WPOV. New Year's Prayer was now coming to a close.

The reverend sat back down and lowered the volume. He closed his eyes and began praying for the man he considered to be like a son to him.

* * *

"Alright, we have our first caller on the line. We have Mac from Bangor. Mac you are on the air." Jack pressed a button on the panel. 

"Yo, Jack, how ya doing!" Mac exclaimed in a very energetic manner.

"I'm doin' fine, Mac. What have you got John?"

"How you doing Johnny? Man, I _never_ thought I would get an opportunity to talk to you! Anyways, I just want to know. What is it like to have psychic powers? Come on, it's gotta be totally awesome, man!"

John shifted in his seat and leaned forward a little bit, a little uncomfortable trying to adjust to this new atmosphere. _This was going to be harder than I thought. _"Well, I mean, it's different. My life hasn't been the same since I've had them. It's been cool at times, but it has been very difficult, too."

Jack took a sip of coffee from his mug and put it down. "Alright thanks for your call, Mac. Caller number 2 is Carrie from Cleaves Mills. Carrie, welcome to the show."

This one was almost the total opposite from Mac. She was young, probably in her early twenties and her voice was low and shaky. She was kind of nervous, which kind of made John feel a little more comfortable, knowing that he wasn't the only one that was nervous. "Thank you, Jack. I'm a long time listener, first time caller. My question for John is, do you believe these powers you have are more of a blessing or a curse?"

John took a deep breath. This one was more difficult. "Well Carrie, it's a mixed bag. Sometimes I feel like these powers could be the worst thing to ever happen to me. I find myself asking why, you know? Why me? And I'm telling you. It hasn't been easy. It's not easy to see death so many times. I've lost count. For a point, I decided not to leave my house for a couple of months after the death of a close friend.

"On the other hand, being able to save lives and being able to help people. Knowing that I affected lives in a positive way. It's a great feeling. I've been able to do more in 3 years than I have ever done in my entire life. In that regard, these powers have been a gift from God. I don't know if I could live with myself if I decided to just hope that none of this happened and know that all those deaths would be on me. I don't know how I would live with myself. It's selfish. It's been hard, but I've learned to accept my responsibility."

Jack smiled. He was loving this. "Thank you, Carrie, for your call. We'll go to one more caller before we take a little break. Here we go, we've got Chad from Bangor. How you doin' Chad, my boy? My favorite Red Sox fan!" Jack was grinning, seemingly from ear to ear.

"I'm doing good, Jack. I've got a question for Johnny. I know you used to play hockey before when you were a kid. How do you feel now that the NHL's back in business? I know this is exciting for all Bruins fans. Who do you think is gonna win the Cup this year? Go Bruins!"

Johnny and Jack were now laughing in their seats. Jack finally said, "Come on, John! We gotta know. Who's gonna win the Stanley Cup?"

Johnny said smiling, "I don't know, Chad. All I know is that it's gonna be a great season and I'm hoping that the Bruins can win it this year, but something is telling me the Avalanche might take the Stanley Cup home this year."

Jack was still smiling. "All right, we're going to take a few minutes, but don't you go anywhere. 'Cause when we return, we're going to bring in another guest and later on we will get back to your calls. Don't go away. This is WPOV."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**- Hello again. Here is the third chapter. Sorry if it is abit short. I will try and see if I can update during the middle of the week. Most likely Wednseday or Thursday. And I will update, as always, on Saturday. The question concerning the action climax? I don't know if I'm heading in that direction, but I will consider any ideas that come to mind. Till next time!

* * *

Bruce Lewis stood in the weight room of the hospital. The weight room was relatively empty. Only a couple of others were working out, the clang of dumbbells, deep breaths, and the radio playing jazz music quietly in the corner were the only sounds in the room. He was working with a thirty year old woman, Jackie, who was rehabbing from arthroscopic surgery on her knee. They were in the middle of the large, recently redone weight room. Bruce was strengthening her knee by doing countless reps of leg extensions.

Jackie had had enough. "Come on, Bruce. That's it. We've been working for three hours." Her face glistened from sweat. Bruce had already tortured her through a 40 minute run on the treadmill, leg curls, and now, leg extensions.

"Look. You give me one more set and we'll take a break. Alright?"

Jackie wasn't pleased, but she took it. She knew there was a long way to go before she could get back on the tennis court again.

At that moment, Bruce's cell phone chirped. He plucked it out of his pocket and flipped it open. "This is Bruce."

"Bruce? It's Sarah."

Bruce smiled. "Oh, hey Sarah. What's up?"

"Are you listening to the radio?"

"Oh man." Bruce looked at his watch. He had completely forgotten about the "surprise" at four on WPOV. "I completely forgot. What's going on?"

"Johnny's on Jack's show."

Bruce laughed out loud. "Hold up. Johnny? On the radio?"

"I know. It's crazy. Just put on the radio and see for yourself."

"Alright, Sarah. Thanks for the head's up."

Bruce hung up and began walking over to the stereo in the corner of the room. He looked over his shoulder. "Finish that set, Jackie, I'll be right back."

She nodded and continued her set of leg extensions.

He changed the station to WPOV. They were on a commercial break. He raised the volume and walked back to Jackie. Bruce was smiling and shaking his head. He couldn't imagine Johnny on the radio.

* * *

After Jack clicked a button on his panel to click them off the air, Johnny gave Jack a confused look. "Another guest? Who?" 

Jack simply smiled as he was about to press another button. "You'll see." Jack pressed another button and said. "Bring him in, Drew."

"You got it, boss," a young man answered from somewhere in the building.

Moments later, the door opened and the guest walked in. "How you doing, John."

* * *

Greg Stillson continued to rub the area between his eyes, his headache spreading like a plague in his head. "Alright Sonny, I've had enough Johnny Smith for one day. Change it." 

As Sonny was about to reach for the dial, Janus interrupted in a cool, menacing voice. "Leave it, Elliman. I want to listen a little longer. I want to hear what he says."

Elliman wasn't happy. "Look, Greg wants to change-"

"I don't care," Janus interrupted without raising his voice an eyelash.

Elliman was about to answer back but Greg leaned in and put and hand on his shoulder. He would lose it if Janus and Elliman started arguing. "Look it's fine Sonny." He fixed his stare on Janus. "I guess we could listen to Smith a little while longer."

Elliman slowly sat back, never taking his eyes off Janus. Janus just gave Elliman a cold stare. In between them both, Stillson continued rubbing his temple.

An uneasy silence hung in the air. The radio commercials were the only sounds in the limo.

* * *

"Welcome back. As promised we have another special surprise guest. You guys might remember him. He's our ex-congressman Harrison Fisher. That's right folks we have him right here with us. Thank you for joining us, Congressman." 

"Great to be here, Jack." Harrison smiled. He seemed to age a little bit more since the last time Johnny saw him, but he seemed happier and more content than when he was in office. He looked free.

Johnny was shocked to see Fisher and the two embraced. They only talked on the phone a couple of times after Fisher's resignation but hadn't seen each other. They quickly tried to catch up before they were back on the air. He guessed now they would catch up in front of a regional audience.

"Well Congressman. What have you been up to nowadays? Have you been keeping low? Still involved? What have you been up to?" Jack asked.

"Well I'm spending more quality time with my family. My wife has been extremely supportive of me and I'm just glad she's still here for me. My son is still in the military serving this country and I hope he will be back soon.

"As far as being involved. I'm not really doing much anymore. I'm just trying to enjoy life right now and I try to do what I can when I can."

Jack continued asking questions. "Do you miss politics?"

"In some ways I do. But for the most part, I enjoy the sidelines," Fisher said with a smile.

Jack added, "Do you still keep a close eye on the action?"

"I'm always watching." Fisher and Johnny exchanged glances. They both knew.

* * *

To be Continued... 


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N **- Hello, again. I am terribly sorry for the long delay! It's been a busy two weeks. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and look forward to the next chapter which i PROMISE will come next week!

* * *

The late afternoon sun continued to filter into the room through the windows, breathing life into the room. Harrison Fisher was sitting across from Johnny Smith, just getting himself comfortable. Fisher dressed formally with his navy blue suit, with a light blue under shirt, bright red tie and dress pants. 

Fisher, who served in Congress for 12 years before the shocking announcement and his resignation from the 2004 Congressional race against Independent Greg Stillson and Democrat Steven Hansz. Truth was, many people approved Harrison Fisher at the beginning of his tenure, but as time wore on, people began to get tired of the same routine. They wanted change. Then Greg Stillson entered the ring.

Early polls indicated that Greg Stillson was the most exciting candidate entering the political arena in Maine in years. He was young, full of charisma and came in with a bang, promising change. He won people over quick and early. Fisher and Stillson were total opposites, and was setting up one of the most intriguing elections in years. Fisher had never faced a true challenge in a largely Republican district. That was about to change.

Then Johnny Smith quietly entered the Fisher campaign.

What seemed at first as a promising relationship of a psychic as a low profile political advisor of sorts soon became the downfall of Harrison Fisher's political career. Johnny was able to see things about Fisher that had been a long kept secret. What established Harrison Fisher as a war hero was a lie, a scandal. Fisher had lived with this lie for 30 years, but when Johnny found out, Fisher decided to confess his actions in a debate. This marked the end of Harrison Fisher's political career.

The speech Fisher gave that night became one of the most memorable moments in Maine's political history, and coming clean shed a new light on Fisher. The news of Fisher's resignation became statewide news. Despite his actions, an overwhelming amount of Maine supported Harrison Fisher's actions and show of honesty. After all the facts of the mission were distributed out to the press, an even larger portion of the state did not believe it was his fault.

With the kind of attention and positive light being shown, Fisher may have been able to continue seeking re-election, but he showed no more interest in running. The Republicans quickly sought after another candidate to replace Fisher and wound up choosing Melissa Klock, a close friend of Harrison Fisher, hoping they could continue to roll momentum towards the Republicans. Fisher openly endorsed her and she quickly gained much of the support of Harrison Fisher's voters, making the race much closer than what analysts and critics expected shortly after the Fisher's resignation.

But in the end, Klock and Hansz could not defeat the rising star.

After a final boost thanks to the Rachel Caldwell ordeal, Stillson managed to dig up more of the female voters, Greg Stillson found an edge and won the election by a mere one percent. Though there were quiet rumors of a possible scandal, they never became more than rumors and stayed under the radar. Nothing became concrete and Stillson became the new congressman.

Fisher was indeed disappointed in what happened but that wouldn't change his vow. He would be watching closely. No matter what.

Jack turned his attention back to Johnny. "So Johnny, back to you for a second. There were stories going around about you supporting Fisher during the last days of his campaign. Now come on, you've go to let us know. True or false."

Johnny took a big breath. "Uh, yeah, I helped Fisher out a little bit before he resigned."

Jack asked Johnny, "Did you have anything to do with Mr. Fisher's resig-"

Harrison Fisher leaned forward and responded before Jack could even finish. "I resigned because I wanted to. I _needed_ to. It was my past, my lies. Johnny had nothing to do with what happened that night at the debate. Johnny encouraged me to keep running before I made _my_ decision. I just knew it was time to come clean. And that is what I did." Fisher leaned back in his chair.

Johnny looked down and ran a hand through his hair.

Jack knew he had made a mistake and turned back to Fisher. "Congressman, why did John encourage you to keep running?"

Harrison took a quick glance at Johnny and then looked back at Jack and began to respond carefully. "Let's just say that there were things we agreed on that he was hesitant to let go by allowing me to resign. It was a difficult decision for me to make and I think that John certainly didn't agree with me. But that's something we both have to live with."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N** -I'm back! I'm sorry for the delay. Got hit by a hurricane down here and things have been hectic. But here I am bringing the new chaper. The last chapter until next year. Hope you like this chapter. and look for a new story to come up before the year is out. Check out my profile. Thank you all for reading.

* * *

"Alright, we're gonna take a couple of more calls before going to a break." There were two buttons blinking on the screen. One was Trent from Cleaves Mills and the other was unknown. Jack went with Trent first. "Trent, you're on the air, welcome to the show." 

"Hey, thanks Jack. Long time listener, first time caller. First, I just want say that I was there that night at their at the debate and Mr. Fisher, you earned my respect that night and just wanted to let you know that your display of honesty was amazing."

Fisher smiled. "Thank you."

"Second, Jack, I know that after Johnny changed your life and everything after but I'm still kind of hesitant to believe in John Smith. No offense, Johnny. I just want to know, what were the changes he made in your life, Jack?"

Jack leaned forward thought where to start. "First off, John Smith is the most incredible man I've ever met. He showed me and countless numbers of other people that there is still something to believe in in a world where there is so little of it left. After I almost jumped off that building, man, that changed my life. I knew I couldn't keep going like this. John showed me that.

"I stopped believing in God after my son died. I had become too angry and too bitter against everyone. God included. After I met John, I knew that God was still there. Still working miracles. This man, John Smith, is a walking, talking miracle. He taught me to believe."

Johnny knew somewhere, Purdy would be smiling.

* * *

"… He taught me to believe." 

He sat back in his chair, a black phone wedged against his ear and left shoulder. An old radio was playing the WPOV broadcast in the desk in front of him. The room was dark, damp and poorly lit. In his right hand, dangling lazily from the arm of the chair, the man held a yoyo. He kept thrusting it up and down. The room was engulfed in smoke from cigarettes he was smoking earlier, the man hiding in the blanket darkness and smoke. The room reeked of stale cigarettes.

He grew tired of all this pathetic life story crap. He was waiting and didn't like to be kept waiting. His patience was wearing thin.

* * *

Jack rolled over to the panel and clicked on "unknown." 

"Welcome to WPOV, who are we talking to?"

Silence.

"Hello, anybody there?"

Just then Johnny just felt like he had been dealt a low blow. A darkness seemed to wash over the room. He skin started to crawl, and he started to break into a cold sweat. Something's wrong.

Fisher noticed Johnny's discomfort, but before he could ask what was wrong, a deep voice came over the radio.

"I'm here."

Jack was kind of worried right about now. The voice sent a chill down his spine. "Who are we talking to?"

A slight pause. "Just a fan."

"Alright Mr. Fan, what do you want to talk about?"

"How would you like to play a little game? The radio talk show host, the politician, and the psychic?"

"Alright I've had enough of this conversation. Good bye, Mr. Fan."

Just as Jack was about to disconnect, the voice interjected with the same deep calm voice.

"You hang up on me, this kid's death will be on your hands."

Everyone in the room, in the studio and those listening in were now in shock. What the in the world was happening?


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** Hey everybody! I'm back, and with a new chapter. I've been so busy lately but here I am with an all new chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

The man on the other side of the line gave a light laugh, a laugh that would burn into their memories to the grave.

"It's amazing how quickly things can change. Isn't it, Jack? One second you're in control of your show, the next it's mine."

Jack, Johnny, and Fisher were too frightened to talk.

"What's the matter, Jack? Cat got your tongue?"

Jack cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure and retake control of the situation. He hated it when he felt other people controlled him. He always had. Before and after his life had changed.

"Who's the kid, Mr. Fan?" he asked with a careful hint of authority.

The man laughed cynically. "Oh, come on now, Jack! That would spoil all the fun! Some mother out there must be so worried about their scared little boy. You do have the amazing Johnny Smith, don't you? Let's play a little hide and seek."

Jack's anger was slowly beginning to rise. John and Harrison Fisher were still a little shaken, but the situation began to settle in. This wasn't a bad dream or some kids playing a prank. It was reality. They all could hear it in his voice.

And that voice. It suddenly hit him and something within him just woke up from a long sleep. Fisher recognized this voice from some distant past. He tried to place a name on it but he couldn't. But he knew this man. He had to think. He had to remember…

And then it hit him.

* * *

A few miles away, it didn't take too long for Stillson to recognize the voice either. He knew exactly who it was, and the very though of him rattled his conscious. His mind began racing, questions jolting his train of thought back and forth. How? What Why?

Sonny's eyebrows rose a couple of inches at the sound of the voice. He also recognized it from before, but he hadn't placed it yet, unlike Stillson already did. Janus remained silent, looking over some files in an open folder. It was like nothing was happening. Of course, Stillson thought, he wouldn't understand what was going on or its significance. This was before he came.

_No. This is not happening. It's a joke. A sick joke. Just like the Christmas party. Just like…_

But he knew all too well this wasn't a joke. An old nightmare just resurfaced. An old problem, once thought solved, all of a sudden came roaring back. And he had to deal with it. Now.

Stillson had been able to sleep a lot easier when he thought he was dead. One less thing he had to worry about. There was already enough on his plate to deal with. Enough problems and obstacles to deal with.

Truth was, this man could single handedly take down everything Stillson built. Tear it down like a house of cards. And he had made it no secret that that scared the hell out of him. This man had become a hazard he could no longer afford before. And he had been dealt with. One less skeleton in his closet.

Or so he thought.

Now here he was, and he better do something about it.

Janus looked up at Sonny first and then turned toward the congressman. He saw the alarm all over his face. A look of dread he had only seen when they had first met. It was a look that disgusted him more than anything in the world. And he hoped he never would have had to see that look again.

"What is it, Congressman?"

Stillson looked over at Janus. A mix of fright and anger brewed in his eyes. He said in a little above a whisper, "Kane."

Janus stared at him for a long second before looking down again. He closed his file and placed it to the side. He checked to make sure the divider between was raised and that the driver couldn't hear a word they were saying?

"Judas Kane?"

Stillson nodded weakly.

Janus had only heard the name once, and that was during a meeting with Jake Traux right before he met Stillson for the first time. The subject had risen near the end of the discussion. He was supposedly a quiet but an extremely powerful force in politics in Maine for a while. Traux was uneasy at the mention of his name. All he had said was that Kane played a pivotal role in Stillson's election. He didn't say anymore and he changed the subject.

Beyond that Janus knew nothing. But he was going to find out real soon.

The exchange on WPOV continued to heat up over the air waves.

* * *

"Don't worry the kid's fine. But that can change in a hurry."

Johnny stepped in. "What do you want?"

The man on the other end paused for dramatic effect, watching his yo-yo silently go up and down, thrusting it as he pleased. He loved yo-yo's ever since he was a kid. He was fascinated by them. When a situation seemed completely out of control or when he felt panicked or overwhelmed, a yo-yo in his hand gave him the peace of mind he needed to take control of any situation. He was famous around his colleagues because in every major meeting or just about anywhere he went, he would always have that yo-yo.

"Justice," he finally answered.

Fischer then leaned forward. "Jude?"

"It's about time, Harry. I was worried you forgot all about me." Judas Kane snapped in a scowl.

Fisher was stunned. "But we thought you were…"

"Dead?" Kane finished. "Surprise, surprise. I thought you would know me better than that, Harry."

* * *

"Roscoe!" Walt yelled as he snatched his jacket and radio and began to almost jog to the door. "We're leaving. Let's go!"

"Alright, alright, I'm coming." Roscoe replied as he trailed behind him trying to keep up. The police station, moments before calm and operating smoothly, now was buzzing with a flurry of activity. Walt had already barked orders left and right before preparing to leave, demanding answers to who Judas Kane is, where he lived, if he had any family, and who the kidnapped child might be and where his or her parents are. The works.

And he wanted those answers now.

Walt rushed out the door, a fumbling Roscoe right behind him. The first thing he noticed was the storm beginning to gather on the distant horizon, threatening an up till now perfect day.

* * *

Janus knew time wasn't his friend right now. But he had dealt with worse than this before. If he was going to solve this, he needed answers and he needed them now.

"Congressman, I need you to tell me everything you know about Judas Kane."

Stillson was still trying to put himself together. "He, uh… he came to us early on in the campaign. He just showed up saying he could guarantee a win come election night. He was one of Fisher's top advisors during his early days. He wanted to see him crash and burn.

"I knew we could use the help so I asked him how much he wanted. He didn't want any money. Only thing he wanted was access to our files and he would give us everything we needed to beat Fisher, no contest."

Janus sighed. "And you agreed."

Stillson could sense the anger in his voice. "Yes. I knew there were risks but-"

"You showed him everything?"

"No, no." still quickly answered shaking his head. "I only showed him what he needed to see. But…"

"But what?" Janus pressed.

Stillson looked down at the floor of the limo. "He found a way to dig deeper. I don't know how, but he did. Behind our backs."

There was a pause. Janus leaned forward, coming just inches away from Stillson. "How much does he know?"

Stillson looked up and into Janus's eyes. "Everything."

Janus paused. "What did you do about it?"

Stillson continued. "Long story short, I knew he had to be dealt with. Quickly, quietly. He was low profile so it wouldn't be too hard. I knew we couldn't talk to him, so shortly after the election we…"

He didn't need to say anymore. Janus knew what happened. Stillson ordered his execution. Everyone thought he was dead. But something happened and went wrong. And here he was.

Now they had to finish the job.

Sonny finally said. "Let me handle this. I can-"

"I'll handle this, Mr. Elliman," Janus said bluntly. He picked up the phone and dialed a number.

"Who are you calling?" Elliman asked.

Janus gave him a cold stare. Elliman was in no position to ask questions.

The phone rang twice before a man with a Russian accent answered flatly. "Serge."

"This is Janus."

There was a pause on the other side. "What do you need?"


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Hello, everybody! I hope youall enjoy this chapter. And don't forget! Season 5 begins on June 18! Until next time!

* * *

"You remember the precautions?"

"Yes, Malcolm. Don't worry. It will be taken care of," Serge answered, trying to reassure his employer.

Janus hung up the phone.

Serge, at almost six feet and weighing 180 pounds, was in optimal physical condition. He was strong, quick, and agile; perfect for his line of work. He was also extremely intelligent, and had great instincts.

He loved working under pressure.

He was in his late 20's and had jet black hair in the form of a crew cut. His eyes were a steely blue, almost gray and lifeless. He was clean shaven and felt refreshed; more refreshed than he had felt in a while.

His color of choice was black. He loved darkness and preferred to work at night. He wore black jeans, black hunting boots, a black shirt under a black leather jacket. Plus a black Lexus SC 430 to boot.

He didn't like talking much or going out much. His work was his life. Period.

He was a clean freak. Always keeping everything in order and organized. He hated the feeling of disorder or having to worry about something he didn't have to. He would absolutely lose it.

But that was a whole other issue.

If there was one flaw Serge possessed, it was his flaring temper. One moment, he would be calm and composed. The next, he would simply snap and get lost in emotion. Serge is a perfectionist. One small inconvenience is all it would take. One minor detail that popped out of nowhere. One thing that didn't go according to plan.

That one thing hadn't happened.

He scored a perfect record up till now, completing every mission, executing every obstacle, jumping over every hurdle. No one was as good as Serge. He was more efficient than anyone he had ever known. He was a born predator, always catching his prey, and always hungry, never satisfied.

He worked with and for the best. He kept a low profile and made sure he stayed off any watch lists. Most of the people he had done business for never knew his name and vice versa. If the price was right, that was all he needed to know. No matter what country you came from, money meant the same thing.

But this… this was different. Serge was well aware that this would be his toughest mission yet. There was an interference that came in the form of John Smith. He was the real deal. And Serge knew that. He would not, under any circumstances, underestimate him. He never underestimated an enemy. Ever. No matter who it was, underestimating an enemy or target was a weakness he never allowed himself to become a victim of.

Serge stepped into the dark and barren parking garage, his suitcase in hand, footsteps echoing through the tunnels and shattering the silence. He walked a good 40 yards where his Lexus, all alone, waited. He stepped in and tenderly placed his suitcase in the passenger seat next to him. He adjusted the rear view mirror. Perfect. Then he reversed and sped down the empty parking garage.

Tara Preston stepped out of the van, yelling at her cameraman, Joe, to get moving. Joe was rolling his eyes. She's been screaming at him for the last ten minutes. Actually, more like the last two years. He had already grown used to it.

Tara was a drop-dead gorgeous brunette with striking green eyes, driven by ambition and maybe too much caffeine. At 25, she was young and sharp as nails; a workaholic who simply wanted to cover the story. And she'd do whatever it took to cover it. And sometimes, most of the time, it meant screaming at poor Joe.

As Joe jogged to the back to the truck of the van gathering all the equipment, Tara looked around. She stood across the street, directly in front of the WPOV building. There were news reporters from a couple of the local newspapers around, but no vans. Which meant she was the first T.V. crew here. She smiled to herself, briefly taking in the victory. There were a few groups of people, she guessed probably 30 to 40 people, gathered around the building, making phone calls and listening to the ongoing broadcast.

_This is gonna boost their ratings…_

And no cops yet.

_As usual…_

Joe at 50 wasn't in the shape he used to be. He has been a cameraman for 30 plus years, but age took a toll on you sometimes. He needed to retire. As if two years of Tara's yelling at him had been enough, his wife has been screaming at him for about 5 years now, begging him to walk away and get a house by a lake somewhere.

He closed the back doors of the van, snapping his little daydream, and with his camera in hand, getting heavier by the day, jogged to where Tara stood. "Where do you want to set up?"

"Right here's good," she said without so much as glancing at Joe.

Joe looked down at his watch. "Alright, we have about a minute before we go live."

Tara smiled. "Let's do it."

Joe was ready, and Tara tried quickly to fix her short, auburn hair. "How do I look?" she asked with a hint of worry.

Joe had gone through this a million times. _Has this job become this predictable?_ "You look like a million bucks," he said flatly.

"Okay."

Joe began counting down. "And we're on in 4…3…2…," and the little red light on the camera blinked on.

"We are here live at the studio of the local radio station WPOV, where just minutes ago, a man we now know is Judas Kane, previously thought to be deceased, made a disturbing phone call during an interview with local self-proclaimed psychic John Smith and ex-congressman Harrison Fisher. Kane claims that he has kidnapped a young boy."

Just then, police sirens could be heard approaching.

"Now, we are not sure who the boy is or where Mr. Kane maybe. That information is still forthcoming. We do know that Congressman Fisher has a connection to Mr. Kane. It is unclear whether there is any connection between Mr. Kane and John Smith or Jack Jericho.

"We will give you live updates as soon as this crisis unfolds. This is Tara Preston, reporting for Channel 4 News."

Just as Tara finished and the red light on the camera blinked off, three police cars parked out in front of the station.

"You betrayed your citizens, you betrayed your country… and you betrayed me. You tossed me aside. How long had we worked together, Congressman?"

Kane sighed and switched gears. "There's one more thing and then I'll let you go. You'll be busy for the next few hours."

Kane paused and continued. "I said before I wanted justice. Please allow me to elaborate. I'll keep it real simple. I want Congressman Fisher dead by midnight tonight, or the kid dies. Take care."

Kane clicked off, leaving Johnny, Jack, and especially Fisher, hanging in absolute disbelief.

The clock on the wall showed exactly 4:00 P.M. They had eight hours.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** I've been thinking and rethinking my story, making sure this is the right direction I want it to go in. After a lot of thought, I believe I have found the general direction where I'm headed and I'm really excited about it! I would really love to hear your thoughts. Constructive criticism is welcome. Thank you for reading!

* * *

"Oh my God…"

Walt heard it right before he was about to step out of the car. The demand left by Kane sent chills scrambling down his spine.

He stepped out the car only to be met by microphones and tape recorders. Only three reporters and a cameraman right now were gathered around his car, but he could see more vans beginning to park and set up their camps. He recognized these three from before.

He was quickly asked a flurry of questions, cameras rolling. Walt had already learned to ignore these pests. He avoided eye contact and pretended they weren't even there. As he walked up the steps to the building, Roscoe right beside him, the reporters continued their pursuit.

As Walt entered, Roscoe stayed at the top step and raised his hands in the air. "Alright, folks, I'm gonna have to ask you all to stay back. Thank you. Please stay back, ma'am."

Tara Preston gave a cold glare at Roscoe. She never liked him, but she backed down. Nothing aggravated her more than deputies acting tough and asking her to stand back. She had a job to do. And she was going to do it.

* * *

Judas Kane put out his cigarette on the old wood table in front of him. He sighed and ran his left hand through his thinning hair, trying to refocus and calm himself down. He knew that was the key to this entire day. Staying calm. 

He was beginning to grow tired of the damp room and rancid smell. He got up from his chair and stretched his legs. He then looked over at the helpless eight year old boy sitting in a chair in the corner. His was tied to the arms and legs of the chair with a thick rope, and his mouth covered with duct tape. His eyes, filled with fear, were red and swollen from crying, the streaks left by the tears were evident on his freckled face. His long black hair was a mess thanks to the dampness of the room.

Kane was sorry it had to come to this. To kidnapping children, demanding an ex-congressman's head on a plate. But it was something that had to be done. These are the people who ruined his life, spoiled his dreams.

"Don't worry, kid," he said flatly. "If everything goes right, you'll be out of here in no time."

He hoped so. He was a man of his word. If Fisher was dead by midnight, then he would return the kid. If not, well…

So far everything was going according to plan. Fisher would be dead by the end of the day. And Smith would have to deal with that for the rest of his life. And that he knew was enough. Smith should have known better than to stick his face into places he shouldn't have been. Anybody who helped Fisher was an enemy of his.

He had done his homework, gathered information that was vital to the success of this mission. He had read and asked around about how Smith locked himself up for months after he couldn't save an old friend from a car crash. That had devastated him. This would destroy him.

And if it didn't, he would try again.

It's amazing how a person can grow such a hatred for someone he had never met. But he did. And it was a hatred that burned with a passion; as if he had known him all of his life. The wall behind the tied-up kid was decorated with articles on John Smith. On the adjacent walls, articles of Harrison Fisher and Greg Stillson were riddled throughout.

But nothing was more important to this mission than containing Smith. He knew from the start he would be a risk. And his people warned him that trying to get him would be too dangerous, but when information about having Fisher and Smith in the same room two weeks ago fell into his hands, the tempting opportunity and his thirst for revenge were too much. It was a thirst that needed to be quenched. It was destiny.

For the last week, he put the final touches on the plans he had dreamed about since the day of his attempted execution. Now all the pieces were falling together. All he had to do was dodge Johnny Smith and run out the clock.

Of course, after this day was over, there was a lot more to be done. There was one more loose end that needed to be tied.

And that was Greg Stillson. But that was a problem for another day. There were worse things than death for Stillson.

* * *

"John, do you have anything? Anything that might tell us where he is?" Walt asked urgently. 

John shook his head. "No. Not yet."

Walt sighed. "Alright."

Fisher was standing with some police officers, answering questions about Judas Kane. He was taking the dilemma pretty well, but he was still worried and his face couldn't hide it. His eyes could tell the story, but he was far off from a mental breakdown. Jack was also being asked questions, and he was more outraged and unraveling by the seams than anything else. In a way he began to look like the Jack Jericho that Johnny Smith had met.

The station was flowing with activity, police officers and employees trying to gather any kind of information that could be useful. Walt knew that there wasn't much that could be done from here. They had to go out and try to find this guy.

Walt went on his radio. "Dan, what do we have at the Kane house?"

* * *

Dan Hodges was now standing outside the Kane household, on the porch. His partner, Collier, was outside checking the perimeter, temporarily out of sight. 

"House is empty. Family's not home just yet. Ryan here's checkin' the perimeter. Over," Dan responded in a thick southern accent.

The radio crackled and Walt's voice came back. "Okay. Stay close and wait until his family comes back."

"Copy that."

Dan clicked the radio back on his belt. He looked around. The neighborhood was pretty quiet except for the occasional group of teenagers walking back from school. But something didn't feel quite right. And Dan could feel it in his gut. And he knew better than to ignore his instincts. He walked back towards the house.

* * *

Serge was hiding behind some bushes about 50 yards away from the Kane household. The neighborhood located had a lot of trees, shrubs, and bushes; a lot of good places to hide. He was watching the two officers searching the house, doing his job for him. There was nobody home. And that was all he needed to know. He would wait a few more minutes before moving back to his Lexus, which he had parked a couple blocks away. 

But then a slight movement about 30 yards to his left caught his eye and he rolled his eyes. The second he arrived at this spot, he had known someone was hiding in those bushes. To the average eye, he may not have been visible at all. But to Serge, he was a thorn in his side he was aching to remove, an itch he desperately needed to scratch.

From what Janus had told him, Judas Kane was - is - a very intelligent man. He had been around, made friends in all the right places. No doubt he would have some loyalties involved. He wouldn't go into this without being properly prepared.

Fortunately, whoever was in those bushes was an amateur. That would make his job a lot easier. He spun the silencer onto his Tag 17 pistol.

* * *

Tara Preston leaned against the side of the news van, impatiently waiting for something to happen. She was angry, frustrated and feeling down right useless. And that pretty much pushed her over the edge. 

Her cell phone began chirping from inside the van.

She groaned in protest and reached inside to pick up the phone. Without checking the caller ID, she answered. "Preston."

"Tara?" It was her older sister Sam. And she sounded alarmed. Like she always did.

Tara sighed, not afraid to show the annoyance in her voice. "Sam, I really can't-"

"It's Robbie. I can't find him. I've checked everywhere. He's not at the school, his friends haven't seen him-," Tara could hear her taking a deep, but shaky breath. She imagined Sam frantically running her hands through her long dark hair.

"Tara… I'm scared."


End file.
